


What We Become

by kylo_bae



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Awkward Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fix-it fic, Pining Allura (Voltron), Pining Lotor (Voltron), Slow Burn, cleaning up season six after that dumpster fire, saving Lotor's character development
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-06-30 08:00:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15747582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kylo_bae/pseuds/kylo_bae
Summary: His betrayal cut deep, nicking grooves in her bones and carving hatred into her heart. But after embarking upon a mission to the Quantum Abyss to rescue the lost Alteans, Allura soon learns the truth about the second colony...and the Prince who tried so desperately to save it.Canon divergence from Season Six's episode, "The Colony".





	1. Chapter 1

Those mournful sobs were still drifting down the hallway, as they had been for hours. It had been breathless wailing initially, heartbreak and betrayal echoing with each utterance. But the choked cries it had dwindled into, as pitiful as a child experiencing their first taste of cruelty, was almost somehow worse.

The mood in the kitchen was a somber one.

Coran was pacing the length of the room, marching from the oven to the doorway that Shiro was tensely leaning against. Every now and then the paladins thought they heard some colorful usage of Altean swear words, Lotor’s name, and highly, er, _creative_ ideas of what Coran would do with sporks should he get ahold of the Galra emperor.

Even Pidge’s hands were devoid of any tech for once, her fingers twisting restlessly in her lap. Her eyes darted from Hunk, slumped over the counter, to Lance and Keith. It was a testament to the current atmosphere that the two weren’t bickering. Lance hadn’t even shot Keith a single dirty look in nearly ten minutes, which was fairly disturbing to all present.

And Keith just looked like the sound of their princess’s tears was entirely his fault. With every cry that reached their ears he sunk further down against the wall, crumpling in on himself like a collapsing house of cards.

To no one’s surprise, Lance was the first to break. His hand smacked down on the kitchen counter with a painful sounding _thwack_.

“This is ridiculous,” he snapped. “She’s been in the projection room for way, way too long. I say we go in there.”

Pidge quirked an eyebrow, more than a little derision in the gesture. “You really think she wants to see us right now? There’s only one person she probably _actually_ wants, and she just told him to haul his butt off our ship.” She thought to herself. “In impressively profane terms, might I add. I didn’t know Allura had it in her.”

Lance scoffed. “Come on, there’s no way she’s pining. The guy is _evil_. Like I’ve been saying for, oh, I don’t know, _the entire time we’ve been teamed up with the purple bastard_.” 

“Yeah, but it was hard to take you seriously when you were so obviously jealous about the hot princely space elf who swept Allura off her feet,” the ginger-haired girl pointed out.

“I was not!” he said indignantly. A frown formed on his lips, petulant and pursed. “I just don’t get why things can’t go back to normal now – you know, Lotor and the Galra equal evilness, Allura and the paladins equal wanting to kick them in the teeth.”

“Because you can’t just turn off your feelings like that, Lance,” Shiro’s gentle voice cut in. “Whatever Lotor did…the Princess, I think she really– “

“Not listening! LALALALALA.”

“Oh, _real mature_ , Lance,” Keith snapped. “And thanks for lumping all the Galra together with Lotor. It’s not like the majority of them probably even _knew_ what was going on in the _secret colonies_ – they wouldn’t have spent hundreds of years trying to fight back against Zarkon’s brutality only to be complicit with experimentation on innocent lives!”

To Lance’s credit, guilt crept into his face as he glanced at his half-Galra comrade. He dragged a distracted hand through his hair. “Look, I just…I’m _worried_ about her, ok?”

“We all are,” Hunk admonished his best friend, finally speaking up. “We care about her too, you know.”

“But I…” Lance paused, then burst out, “I don’t get why she just _let him go_! After all the crap Keith and his mom and Romelle saw! The proof was right there! He’s been doing all this terrible stuff to Alteans, and the _Altean princess_ didn’t – hell, I don’t know, _arrest_ that jerk or – ”

“What, _body slam_ him?” Keith asked snidely.

“Yeah, maybe!”

“Because she chose to do the right thing, our princess.” Coran had finally stopped his pacing, coming up beside the irate young paladin to grip his shoulder tightly. 

Lance’s mouth dropped open. Coran’s proclamation even had Pidge staring at him in surprise, and Hunk’s eyes had taken on roughly the size and shape of his infamous scaultrite cookies.

“Coran,” Lance croaked. “Are you _crazy?_ How can you – ” He abruptly stopped.

Coran, always so boisterous, so utterly ready to laugh in the face of evil and danger and whatever other obstacles the universe threw at their team, had grief writ in every crevice that suddenly seemed to line his ageless face. “I was raised, and so too endeavored to raise Allura, in the belief that the highest calling one can answer is to serve the people. To ensure their wellbeing, and their happiness...even at the cost of your own.” The hand on Lance’s shoulder tightened briefly, before relaxing. “And today…today, she did that.”

Hunk blinked. “But Lotor is free, and the Alteans are – ”

“But she wasn’t thinking of just the Alteans, was she?” Shiro interjected thoughtfully, eyes trained on Coran’s face. He pushed away from the doorframe. “She was thinking of the Coalition, of the entire universe.”

The Altean advisor offered a weak smile, a pale imitation of his normal jovial one. “Astute as ever, Shiro.” Coran ran a hand across his face, hiding his expression for a moment. “I have been alive for far too many years to count. I’ve witnessed some of the greatest evils the Galra have inflicted upon free peoples of the galaxy. And believe me when I say that the consequences of forcibly removing Lotor as emperor of the Galra could be catastrophic.”

“A power vacuum,” Pidge said, horrified realization seeping into her tone.   

Lance cocked his head at the words, not fully understanding.

Pidge continued breathlessly, “We get rid of Lotor…and a Galra who could potentially be a million times worse steps up to take his place. Someone who doesn’t believe in peace at all, even a twisted version of it.” A greenish hue tinged her skin, broadcasting her sickness at the idea.

A quavering breath escaped Hunk. “And Earth could have been next on the whole ‘conquering the universe’ plan that the Galra used to have going on before Lotor took control.”

Lance’s fist clenched against his stomach, as though someone had successfully sucker punched him. “Oh man…”

“Uh,” Keith raised his hand, dark brows knitted together. “Yeah, this all sounds awful, and I can’t believe Allura was able to coherently think of all this in the five seconds she had to process everything…but aren’t we forgetting about the comatose Alteans in the moon colony?” 

There was a vigorous shake of the head from Coran. “ _No._ With you and your mother’s assistance, we’ll chart a course for it now. Whatever – ” He coughed, clearing an emotional catch in his voice. “Whatever the truth may be, those people, _our people,_ need our help.”

“But what if Lotor makes a move in the meantime?” Lance persisted, not quite willing to climb aboard the ‘Lotor-is-the-lesser-of-many-evils’ train. “You know, now that we’ve discovered his dastardly plot.”

Shiro’s expression hardened, his demeanor seamlessly shifting into that of Voltron’s leader. “If it comes to that, then we fight. But for now, we leave him be – our main priority is getting to those Alteans.” 

“And…Allura?” Hunk questioned, sending a hesitant peek down the hall. “What do we do about her?”

To that, there was only silence.

* * *

_His lips had been unbelievably warm, pressed as they were against her own_.

_Allura remembered it vividly – the way he had bent down, angling the lean length of his body towards her. That_ look _in his eyes – so soft, so overwhelmingly gentle._

_It was how he always looked at her, she had realized then. This man who led millions, who maneuvered situations with cunning and swept through life with a natural air of command. But he always regarded her as though he couldn’t quite believe her presence, couldn’t fathom that she wouldn’t shatter into a million ephemeral shards of a dream if he dared tear his gaze away._

_Her hands, held tightly to his chest, had curled further into his at the sudden comprehension. Heat suffused her cheeks as she sought to return the kiss, shyly gliding her lips against his upper one._

_It may have only been her second kiss in her entire life, but Allura felt a feminine sort of triumph at the way his body went rigid at the sensation, claw-tipped fingers briefly tightening about her own as though he meant to pull her up against him until not an inch remained between their bodies._

_Unfortunately, the moment that highly exciting thought occurred to her, Lotor pulled away abruptly. She was sure the flush on her face perfectly matched the dark tint to his own._

_“We should…return to the Castle, Princess.” His voice, usually so sleek and confident, was strangely hoarse. “I’m sure your paladins are missing you.”_

_Allura could only mutely nod in agreement, while mutinously wondering at the same time if it would_ really _matter if they were gone for just a few more doboshes. Or ten. Or twenty. Or a varga._

_She stopped right there, appalled at herself for her internal monologue. Countless years of governesses and etiquette lessons, all undone in the blink of an eye by one irritatingly charming Galra emperor._

_A strong suspicion that her father was chortling at her from the great beyond niggled at her. Or wishing violent bloody death upon Lotor. Whichever one._

_Lotor was right, however. Any further dawdling and her paladins were more likely than not going to burst in on them – and stars above, that was_ not _an event she was yet ready to be tangled up in._

_“Shall we?”_

_Allura blinked at the proffered arm before smiling and accepting it. If she held onto it a little tighter than normal, or Lotor kept her tucked closer than propriety would dictate, neither one of them commented upon it._

_All she could remember of that moment was…simple contentment. Happiness._

_And then there were only flashes of anger. Snippets of agony._

_“Lotor is a monster! He’s been harvesting Alteans for their quintessence for generations!”_

_Oh, how stricken his expression had been. But Allura could only focus with bewilderment on the Altean – another Altean, how? Why? They were dead, gone, forever,_ how? _– and the accusatory words that slammed into her heart like a koltas-hammer._

_“He’s been lying to us this whole time!” Pidge shouted. “He’s a murderer – just like his father!”_

_“You know_ nothing _about what you speak!” His voice was dark, hovering on the edge of fury._

_“What are they_ talking _about?_ ” _Allura choked out, her attention caught between the living proof of another pure Altean and the man (monster? murderer? please, please no) standing before her._

_“Allura, please,_ listen _to me – there_ are _other Alteans, it’s true – ”_

_Her mind seized on that word. “It’s true?” she whispered. “What they’re saying…that you…that you_ harvested _them?”_

_Lotor stepped forwards urgently, as though to catch her hand. But where the thought had thrilled her only ticks before, she now took a stumbling step back. “No! You must listen to me, you must believe – ”_

_“Allura, he’s lying!” Lance’s yell sliced through the air. “Keith told us what he saw!”_

_“I do not speak falsely. I would never bring harm to you, to your people,_ my _people – I have dedicated my life to preserving Altean culture, to ensuring they could live in peace without being hunted down like animals!”_

_But the truth of it was scrawled across the blonde Altean’s tearful face, in Keith’s black eyes._

_And it was then that Allura knew._

_Knew what a_ fool _she had been_. _A stupid, fanciful, quiznaking_ fool.

“ _You’re a liar!” she shouted, her throat burning alongside the blistering tears that pricked the corners of her eyes. Lotor recoiled. “Liar! How could you? How could - ” She trailed off. Anger, betrayal, and humiliation obstructed all utterance._

_Ignoring the myriad guns and swords trained on him, Lotor closed the distance between them in two quick strides._

_Wildly, she wondered what he meant to do – hold her? Cradle her face? Whisper more sweet lies against her lips? Rip the very quintessence out of her soul with lithe lilac hands that she still longed to have comforting her?_

_“Allura – ”_

_She reared about and slapped him._

_Her nails raked brutally across his face, droplets of blood splattering the floor in tandem with the droplets of water streaking down hers._

_The silence that swallowed the room was punctuated only by the low rumble of engines, the slam of cockpit doors._

_Shiro tossed a terse look at the docking bay doors. “It must be his generals come to retrieve him. Princess?”_

_She heard the question in his voice, asking her what she wanted to do. And Allura…she wanted…_

_She wanted…_

_Her cerulean gaze came to rest on the Galra. He was simply standing there, hands limp at his side as he stared at her with shuttered yellow eyes. He made no effort to staunch the crimson rivulets that dripped leisurely down his skin, painting his mouth an obscene red._

_“Get out,” she said finally. She couldn’t think of any words bad enough to capture the hurt that was searing her veins. She could barely stymie the shakiness that threatened to send her toppling to the floor with emotional exhaustion._

_All that popped into her otherwise blank head, funnily enough, was some Earthling slang she’d heard Lance howling at Keith often enough for some imagined slight. “Get the hell off my ship, Galra Emperor.”_

* * *

It was like some accursed holomovie, playing over and over and over in her head. She couldn’t make it _stop_ , that scene that had happened only hours before, and she was so very tired of crying.

Allura was sprawled on the blessedly cold floor of the room that had once housed her father’s A.I. and the field of juniberry blossoms. She had neither father nor flowers now, but could still pretend the room retained some vestige of their comforting presence.

She rolled on her side, wearily curling up into a ball. Her armor cut into her unpleasantly with the motion – she hadn’t had the energy to remove it. “Father,” she whispered into the empty chamber, the word distorted with a tiny, miserable hiccup. “Father, it hurts.”

How many times, she thought absently, had she said that in her life?

_Father, it hurts_ – the magic words only had to be uttered, whether it be for a skinned knee, a broken toy, or wounded feelings, and King Alfor had unfailingly swept in and fixed everything. As a child, she’d believed her father to hold the answer to curing all of life’s ills. 

But her father was dead, and at any rate, there was no way to fix this.

Not unless there was a way to go back in time and undo this unforeseen betrayal. 

She winced as some distant inner voice laughed at that. _Unforeseen_ , it whispered derisively. _But you were just waiting for this to happen, weren’t you? Just waiting for the other shoe to drop, to prove your point that once a Galra, always a Galra. Weren’t you anticipating some reason not to trust him, and lo and behold the perfect one was dropped right in your lap…_

Allura shook her head rapidly, perturbed.

She _hadn’t_ needed excuses not to trust him, she told herself firmly. She hadn’t been actively looking for slip-ups on his part – and the reality of the crimes he’d committed was enough to justify her reaction! 

Soft chittering near her head made Allura start with surprise, trying to focus bleary eyes on what appeared to be very concerned Space Mice. Wet noses nuzzled against her chin, messages of concern reaching her ears with every squeaky chirrup. 

“Yes, I’m…” The response perished before she could even force it past her tongue. “No,” she began again, fainter this time. “I am not fine. Not right now.” 

More squeaks. Allura smiled weakly. “I imagine they are exceedingly concerned. It’s quite uncharacteristic of me, isn’t it?” 

Her eyes widened at the next series of shrill chatter. For the first time since this entire debacle, she felt galvanized to sit up. A quick swipe of her hand over her face removed traces of damp. “The colony?” she repeated, watching as the mice’s furry heads bobbed in vigorous confirmation. “We’re going to…yes, of course we are. Coran would have made sure of it.”

Allura stared down at her hands, guilt flooding through her with the intensity of a dam crumbling into nothingness.

The colony.

Her people. Her _subjects_.

They were waiting on her. Depending on her to come for them. Stars, she had been so madly consumed with grief and fixated on what she couldn’t change, that she had completely overlooked the things that _were_ within her power to do. 

Bracing herself against the floor, she stood up. Her mouth thinned into a determined line, knuckles white as she balled her fists.

For now, she could be there for her friends, for her fellow Alteans.

For now, she could quietly lock away the heartbreak and the memories of one sweet moment.

* * *

“Yes, Shiro, I am quite positive that I want to come along. No, I do _not_ want to wait in the Castle with Romelle. Yes, I feel well enough to go.”

The Black Paladin shut his mouth at Allura’s preemptive assurances, embarrassed. Allura offered him a tiny, reassuring smile only ticks later, patting him on the arm. “I appreciate the concern, my friend. But this is something I have to do.”

Shiro nodded. “If you’re sure. You too, Coran?”

Her ginger-haired advisor straightened himself up to his full height (which unfortunately wasn’t much compared to Shiro’s hulking figure). “Of course! I would never miss the opportunity to attend the liberation of our fellow Alteans with the Princess!” 

“Okay guys, let’s head out then,” Shiro said. “But be on the lookout for any Galra that might be posted here. Keith, you’ll lead the way.”

Everyone mumbled their agreements (although Lance managed his usual token protest at having to suffer Keith’s leadership) and dutifully started following after Keith down the barren landscape.  

Allura allowed herself to fall slightly behind the others, the overly boisterous chatter of Lance and Hunk becoming a mere hum in the distance. In doing so she found a reprieve from the pitying expressions and well-meaning words of concern that had become commonplace during the journey through the Quantum Abyss to the orbiting moon that supposedly housed the captive Alteans.

Her teammates had, rather irritatingly, taken to treating her like a delicate figurine as of late. She loved the others, just as she knew she possessed an irreplaceable position in their own hearts, but by the great stars above she was going to scream if she had to endure one more plate of freshly baked ‘break-up cookies’ from Hunk or well-meaning pep talk from Coran. 

Or hear Lance’s none-too-subtle hints that she should move on. 

For goodness’ sake, it seemed even the Space Mice had taken it upon themselves to be her own personal emotional guardians – they had been suspiciously more attentive and affectionate as of late.

Although not all of their efforts were unwelcome, Allura had to admit reluctantly. Everyone’s studious avoidance of mentioning the Galra Emperor’s name in her presence would have been almost amusing if it hadn’t been simultaneously depressing how grateful she was not to be reminded of _him_.

Allura’s gaze roved over the harsh planes of the moon, coming to rest upon the dome that loomed ever closer before them. It was nothing like the first idyllic colony that Romelle had described, surrounded by lush forest and sparkling bodies of water. This was the absence of warmth and life. This was not a home created for a misplaced race of people longing to belong again.

This was _evil_.

Dread snaked in sinister tendrils around her heart as Allura contemplated what was awaiting her there.  

Dread…coupled with a flare of anger at –

_No_ , she told herself, steely and unyielding. Her nails dug painful crescents into her palms. _You are_ not _to dwell on him, Allura_. _Stow all thoughts of him away_. _Focus on the mission_.

A touch upon Allura’s arm ended her distraction. A quick scan of her surroundings revealed a concerned Pidge at her elbow.

“Hey,” the younger girl said, offering a comforting variation of her trademark confident grin. “I’m sure it’ll be alright. No matter what we find, we’ll do everything in our power to help your people, you know?” 

Allura caught Pidge’s hand, giving a grateful squeeze at the words. She couldn’t say anything in reply, not because she wasn’t touched by her friend’s kindness, but because her throat suddenly felt far too tight for speech.

For Shiro’s mechanical hand rested upon the sealed entrance of the dome. They had arrived. 

“Keith,” he said, eliciting a nod from the young Blade and the sudden materialization of his luxite-forged sword. Shiro glanced at the remaining four, his hand beginning to glow as he gained a stronger purchase against the doors. “The rest of you better stand back. We don’t know what’ll be waiting for us in there.”

Keith and Shiro grunted in unison, muscles straining as they sought to pry open the entryway. Allura shifted back obediently with Coran, Lance, Hunk, and Pidge, clenching her Bayard into a ready position should any unpleasant surprises decide to leap in their path.

She almost wished _he_ was in the dome, if only so she could strangle him with her whip, she mused sourly. Alteans weren’t a violent group by nature, but woe be to the lilac paramours that double-crossed them.

A protesting groan of metal signified their success. The group peered cautiously into the dome. Darkness yawned before them, a hallway with shining tiled floors melting into the shadows ahead. 

The silence was deafening. 

A spark of fear tingled along her spine. Allura’s fingers stretched out blindly until they bumped against those she instinctively recognized as Coran’s. They were sweaty, damp even through the fabric of his gloves. He tangled them together tightly in a way that told her just how anxious he was as well.

“It’s…it’s just ahead,” Keith said in a hushed voice.

“Let’s go.” Her own tone was equally as soft.

* * *

Oh.

_Oh_.

Her mouth worked vigorously, but no sound could escape it.

Tanks. Mechanical, uniform, and spiraling about the room in concentric circles. They lined the walls, rested on the floors.

And in each of them, things that resembled Alteans. She said resembled, because their skin was so sagged upon malnourished frames, their cheek markings so faded as to almost be undetectable, and the cartilage of their ears eroding away in some places.

These people couldn’t be _alive_ , no matter what Romelle said. They were _corpses_ , remains of creatures who had been desecrated over and over and _over_ again. Multiple insertion points were open along the bodies floating in the tanks, glowing tubes grotesquely protruding as they sucked the very life force from them. 

Allura couldn’t help it. She clasped her hands to her mouth, retching, thankful she hadn’t been able to stomach more than a bite of food all day. 

“Oh god,” she heard Hunk gasp behind her, echoed by an appalled Lance.

“Yeah,” Keith said grimly, reaching out to steady Allura’s shaking form. She could see Shiro doing something similar for Pidge, rubbing her back in soothing motions. And Coran…well, she was glad that she couldn’t see his expression. She’d had enough nightmare fuel to last her the remainder of her days. “My words couldn’t do the shittiness of this place justice. These poor Alteans.”

_Alteans_. 

The word shook her from her stupor. Flinging off Keith’s hand, she stumbled over to the nearest tank. She fumbled desperately with the controls along the sides, breaking the traumatized atmosphere that had frozen them all into inaction. 

_Get them out. I have to get them out. Get them out get them out get them out –_

“Blasted thing, open!” she snarled, flipping switches and trying not to stare at the diminished male suspended inside. A frustrated cry escaped her, and she slammed her hands against the glass. It didn’t even fissure.

“Allura!” There was a chorus of yelps.

_Wake up. Please._ Allura’s forehead hit the tank next, as though she could become a ghost and pass through it to reach the helpless soul inside.

“Allura? Let me try.” Still looking slightly shaken, Pidge gently pushed her away from the blinking control lights, rummaging through her shoulder bag and pulling out a decryption scanner. Allura bonelessly allowed herself to be shifted, she and Coran hovering close as the resident tech genius muttered to herself for a minute.

A relieved smile stretched Pidge’s mouth widely. “Got it! I think.” Dexterous little digits punched a series of buttons on the panel, flicked a few switches.

Nothing happened for a second. Allura’s heart dropped to her feet in despair. 

And then… 

The glass front of the tank disappeared, a whirring noise filling the air as it opened. All of the sickly teal fluid inside exploded outwards, drenching Allura, Pidge, and an unlucky Shiro positioned close by.

And then the worst part – the glowing tubes connected to the lifeless figure began snapping out. To Allura’s revulsion, the Altean male’s body jerked about with each tube that hissed its withdrawal. It looked like some demented version of a puppet show.

Deprived of the watery environment that had supported him for so long a time, the Altean pitched forwards. So did Allura and Shiro, lunging with outstretched arms to cushion his fall.   

Silvery hair sticking moistly to her face, Allura helped the equally soaked Shiro lower the male to the ground. The others clustered around. Pidge was already bending over the prone figure, grimacing as she inserted her medi-scope into one of the gaping incisions on his thin forearm.

Lance gagged, causing Pidge to glare defensively up at him. “It was already there, you wimp! Besides, it’s the only way I can check and see exactly what this guy’s status is.”

“And?” Allura interrupted, impatiently cutting off their burgeoning argument. “Pidge, his chest – it’s not moving!” 

“Can’t feel a pulse either,” Shiro intoned, an intense look on his face as he pressed two fingers against the side of the Altean’s neck.   

“That’s because you’ve got your fingers in the wrong place!” Allura hurriedly batted Shiro away, replacing him with her fingertips pressed directly under the chin. “Our circulatory systems aren’t exact replicas of humans’!” 

An agonizing moment crawled by. And then she felt it – the smallest, most beautiful little thrumming beneath her fingers. “Pidge,” she crowed. “It’s there! His pulse! Your scanners?” 

“Yeah, I’m definitely picking up a heartbeat!”

“His chest just rose – he’s breathing!” Coran noted breathlessly.

Allura grasped the unconscious male’s hand, clutching it against her. Placing her lips directly by his ear, she whispered, “You can do this, I _know_ you can. Come back, my brother, my kin. We’re waiting for you. They all are.” 

“Guys, I’m picking up circulatory and respiratory function, but nothing on his brainwaves,” Pidge said, intent upon her medi-scope monitor. “This EEG isn’t…it’s not showing…” She swallowed hard.

“I mean, this guy’s been asleep for what could potentially have been a few thousand years,” Hunk pointed out. “It’s normal for it to be a little off, right?”

“Yeah, but we don’t know when he’ll wake up.” Pidge looked somberly at the others. “Or if he ever – wait.” The monitor she held had started vibrating, emitting a shrill series of beeps. “Oh crap – his EEG – Allura, Shiro, his brain, he’s – !” 

The warning wasn’t quick enough. The Altean’s eyes popped open, bulging as his cracked lips parted and he _screamed._

_Screamed and screamed and screamed._

It wasn’t any sort of earthly noise any of them had ever heard.

“Please!” Allura said, straining to be heard over the truly awful cacophony. She leaned over him, taking his gaunt face in her hands and forcing him to meet her eyes. “You’re safe, we’ve rescued you!”

His wildly roving gaze moved from her concerned expression and fell upon Allura’s ears. The sight of the pointed cartilage bizarrely appeared to frighten him all the more. His screams intensified in their pitch, and he thrashed against their hold.

“ _No_ ,” the Altean male sobbed, free fingers digging into Shiro’s armor as he sought to squirm away from Allura. “ _No_ , her ears, her ears, don’t let – don’t let – no more hurting, _please_ , I can’t hear them scream anymore _I can’t scream anymore, it hurts_ – !” 

Allura desperately held her kinsman’s hand tighter, tears of her own wetting her cheeks. She couldn’t bear this. Every artery and vein felt like it was constricting, cutting off blood to her own beating heart. 

“Lotor can’t hurt you,” Shiro soothed. “You’re safe now.”

The man’s eyes rolled about in his head. He shook it frantically back and forth with another garbled cry. “Not the Prince. Not the Prince. The false Prince. _Tears of blood and eyes of gold, so gold._ ”

“Wha?” Hunk mumbled. His questioning eyes fell on Allura, who could only shrug helplessly. She smoothed her hands over the Altean’s brow, trying to grant him some measure of peace that she herself didn’t even possess at the moment.   

It didn’t work.

The man screamed again at her touch, trapped in his own remembering. “T-the Deceiver came, she came but we didn’t know, she came when the Prince was gone – but he _wasn’t_ gone, he was there but he wasn’t and she _wore his face and we followed her to the stars, so far, so far from the others –_ ”

Allura’s heart stopped – she heard the dull thud of it fade into nothingness, replaced by an overwhelming roaring in her ears.

“What?” she asked frantically. “What are you – what are you speaking of? Someone led you away from the first colony? But it was Lotor – the one who took you away? The one who imprisoned you?”

The man flailed, limbs spasming uncontrollably and spittle flying from his mouth. Shiro grunted with the effort of maintaining his hold; Allura was unrelenting, her nails digging into the palm that she clutched. “Tell me, please!”

“Beware! Beware her! Don’t let her – please, don’t let her, not anymore, I can’t, I can’t _listen – they’re crying!_ ” 

“ _Who_? Beware _who?_ ” 

“The witch! The golden eyed witch! _She_ smiled _and took his skin and wore his face to gain our love and then into the tubes, into the tubes we went and she never ever ever ever ever ever let us out, oh no!_ ”

She met Shiro’s eyes over the Altean’s body, and found a perfect image of her own horror reflected back at her.

Oh, dear stars above.

Allura barely noticed when the Altean finally slumped backwards against her and Shiro, having worked himself into a faint. She caught him automatically, she and the paladin cradling their burden like parents would a sleeping babe.

No. Oh no. Please, no.

“ _He’s a monster!”_

_“You know nothing about what you speak! Allura, please,_ listen _to me – ”_

Bile clawed its way up the back of her throat. Her breaths puffed out in short gasps. She was hyperventilating. They had gotten everything so horribly, horribly wrong.

_“You must listen, you must believe – ”_

_“Allura, he’s been lying to us!”_

“It wasn’t Lotor,” she mouthed, her voice emerging as barely more than a wisp of sound. Her mind had frozen over as a pond would in winter, everything trapped beneath a sheen of ice. She couldn’t feel. She couldn’t _think_. 

“ _I would never bring harm to you, to your people,_ my _people – ”_

“ _You’re a liar! Liar! How could you?”_  

She had believed herself to be exhausted of tears. And yet they welled up once again _._  

“S-Shiro,” she said, mouth stumbling clumsily over the name in her shock. “Shiro, it wasn’t Lotor. We were so mistaken. W-what have I _done?_ It wasn’t him – it was – it was –” 

Allura couldn’t even bring herself to mention the vile creature’s name. The one who had enslaved her people, who had harvested their very essence as carelessly as one would crops in a field.

The one who had caused her to doubt the only person that she had ever…

Shiro’s mouth pressed into a thin line, but not before he spat out the very name that Allura found to be lead on her own tongue.

“ _Haggar.”_

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

As soon as the witch’s name fell heavily from Shiro’s lips, the doors to the central room slammed open. A Galra ran inside – female, probably, from the way her thick hair was intricately braided against her head. She was clad in a white lab coat.

A gun was clutched in her claws. 

Instantly the Paladins were on guard – Keith’s blade glinted in the harsh light, Lance beside him with his energy blaster cocked. Allura drew the unconscious Altean further into her arms, while Shiro and Coran hunched over the two of them protectively. Pidge and Hunk materialized their shields, twin looks of determination on their faces.

But the Galra only had eyes for the Altean male resting limp against Allura. With a horrified shout, she sprinted towards the group, causing them to tense.

“Hold it right there!” Keith ordered. 

The sword pointed threateningly at her slowed the Galra down, but did little to distract her from the sight before her. “What have you _done_?” she cried out, pointing her blaster at them – Allura noted the way that it trembled, and the manner in which the Galra’s claws seemed to shift about it awkwardly. “They weren’t supposed to be woken this soon, it’s too dangerous! You…you have no idea what you’ve done!” 

Shiro stepped out from behind Keith, his own hand glowing in warning. “What we’ve done is rescue this Altean from captivity. We know what Haggar has been doing to them…what you’ve obviously been helping her with!”

“Helping Haggar?” the Galra repeated blankly. Her luminous eyes reflected befuddlement amidst the distress. “What in the great galaxy are you on about?”

“This is _her_ ugly chrome dome, isn’t it?” Lance snapped. “You’re obviously one of her soldiers! Guarding this place as she saps the life out of Allura’s people!”

“A _sol –_ I’m a _scientist_ , thank-you-very-much!” the Galra retorted, flapping the edges of her pristine lab coat pointedly at them. “Don’t confuse me with one of those helmet brains!”

“Scientist, soldier,” Keith dismissed with hard grey eyes. “Doesn’t make up for the fact that you’re aiding that murdering witch!”

“Emperor _Lotor_ has charged me with _helping_ these people, not hurting them! Zarkon’s Priestess doesn’t even know this place exists!”

The outburst caused the gathered group to blink confusedly at her.

“Uhhh…” came Hunk’s voice. “ _Who_ told you to do _what_ now?”

Allura decided that enough was enough. All of these accusations weren’t getting them anywhere, and she was sorely tired of being denied the truth. She’d had quite enough of lies and uncertainty, and it was time that she wrangled a few answers out of people on her own. Turning to Coran, she whispered, “Here, can you take him?”

He nodded. Allura eased the Altean’s form into Coran’s reliable arms, taking care not to jostle him. She rose in one fluid motion, striding to the front of the group. 

“I am Allura, a Paladin of Voltron and Princess of Altea.” Her fingers rested tensely against her hip, ready to summon her bayard whip if required. The Galra’s weapon was still raised, now pointing directly at Allura’s chest. Feeling Lance shift anxiously beside her, she stepped hard on his foot as a warning not to move. “You claim you are a scientist?”

“I do,” the Galra confirmed.

Allura continued to address the Galra in a steely tone. “And you say you are helping these people?” 

“Yes.”

“Then how can you explain the Quintessence being stolen from their very souls at this moment?” 

“ _St-stolen?_ ” To Allura’s surprise, the supposed scientist threw up her hands in frustration. “It’s not being _stolen_ from them, you _kral’nic_ brains! It’s being _administered_ to them!”

That caught her off guard. Inhaling sharply, Allura demanded, “ _What_?” 

“Yes, when Emperor Lotor found them, it was indeed as you said: Zarkon’s Alchemist had been siphoning their Quintessence – had been doing it for thousands of years.” The Galra ran a hand roughly across her furred head. “But when Lotor built this facility–”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Hunk interrupted, waving his hands frantically. “Hold on a sec. Lotor built this place? But you just said he _found_ the Alteans here…I’m so confused…” 

If the Galra had possessed discernable irises and pupils, Allura was fairly certain they would be rolling right about now in exasperation.

“Haggar had constructed a laboratory within the depths of one of our conquered planets in the Helith quadrant after luring the Alteans away from the main colony,” the scientist replied with a scowl. “It was there that your Alteans slumbered and suffered.” 

“If this _isn’t_ the original laboratory Haggar was imprisoning them in, then how did the Alteans even get here?” Shiro asked.

“Lotor infiltrated her base once he became aware of its existence and brought them here, to a hidden haven, so that the Alchemist couldn’t find them upon discovering their absence. My team was stationed here as caretakers, tasked by Emperor Lotor himself, with our mission being to find some way to help them recover.”

Allura was quite certain that her heart was set to beat straight from her chest. The Altean had spoken truly. “But why…” she began, finding her voice. “Why have you not awakened them? If you really are seeking to replete their Quintessence – ”

“She’s not lying,” Pidge called out. 

Everyone whirled to face the technician, who had walked over to the cryotanks while the Galra scientist talked. Pidge studied the bio-scanner she had affixed to one of the control panels. “The Quintessence isn’t being taken out of these guys! The afferent pressure is positive – the tubes are actually feeding it _into_ them.”

Everyone looked flabbergasted. Allura’s hand shakily rose to press against her mouth. 

“Wow. Bet you feel _really_ stupid now, huh Keith?”

“Shut it, Lance! How was I supposed to know?! You didn’t notice it either!”

“And to answer your question, Princess,” the Galra said, raising her voice over the bickering duo. “We _did_ try to remove them from the tanks and wake them, at first. It was our initial instinct, just as it was yours.” Her gaze moved to the Altean that Coran still held, the glow in her eyes dimming unhappily. “But as I’m sure you just discovered, they are…unstable. Their bodies and minds cannot thrive long outside of the cryotanks.”

The screams of the poor male still echoed hauntingly in Allura’s mind. She swallowed, nodding.

“We hypothesized that the only way to restore the Alteans to their normal selves was to replenish that which had been taken. And we _have_ seen a small amount of success with the raw Quintessence we were able to find and refine.” A grim look crossed the scientist’s face. “If you can believe it, these people actually looked far worse when Lotor first brought them here. But it’s not sufficient…the regular Quintessence we process for safe use gets terribly diluted, and it isn’t strong enough.”

“Wow,” Pidge marveled, eyes widening behind her glasses. “If so much was extracted from the Alteans, then it would probably take another few thousand years to heal them with what you’re currently using.”

The Galra nodded in agreement. “And that is why, for a very long time now, we have been desperately hunting for – ” 

“For pure, concentrated Quintessence,” Allura finished quietly. “All this time, he’s been searching for a way to revive them. To _save_ them.”

 _Lotor_. His name rose, unbidden, to the forefront of her mind. 

All she could think of was how stricken his expression had been at the accusations – liar, murderer, _monster_. He had tirelessly worked to see her people safe, and Allura had…she had…

She had turned from him when he required her trust the most. Had shied away with repulsion when she should have held him close. 

She had believed in the word of a woman she had never met before, enchanted by the fact that it was an _Altean_ , over the professions of a half-Galra that she had cultivated a deep, intimate bond with. It was the worst sort of betrayal.

And it was an ugly realization that the prejudices she had tried so hard to progress beyond still lurked within her.

And that was why he hadn’t told her, she sorrowfully admitted to herself. Furious as Allura was that she had still been deceived about some of her people being alive…she couldn’t deny she now understood his reasoning. 

Because Allura knew…knew that if Lotor had informed her of the existence of the second colony, she wouldn’t have listened.

She wouldn’t have given him the benefit of the doubt, or the chance to explain. Allura would have served as judge, jury, and executioner in swift succession, unable to believe that absolute evil wasn’t simply an inherent part of every creature who possessed Galra blood in their veins, just waiting to manifest itself at the first convenient opportunity.  

Obviously Lotor had been all too aware of the preconceived notions that tainted her mindset, of her blind favoritism of anything Altean even to the detriment of the truth. 

Stars above, she didn’t even _know_ how to go about making amends for what she had done, both as an ally on behalf of Team Voltron…and as a woman to the man who had sought to preserve the last remaining people of her decimated home world. 

Allura cleared her throat, raising her eyes to steadily meet those of the scientist. The familiar golden glow struck her deeply, a pang of longing for another pair of yellow eyes overtaking her.   

“I apologize,” Allura said sincerely, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin. “I was wrong about your Emperor, and about your intentions here. I can only offer my boundless gratitude for the good you have done for my people, and my intention to aid you from this point on. What is your name?” 

“…Torkalo,” the scientist replied. Her blaster finally dropped. The other Paladins cautiously allowed their own weapons to dematerialize at the sight as well.

For the first time in days, Allura smiled. It was tiny and strained with the events of the past few hours, but no less true. “Torkalo. I request your aid in properly restoring my fellow Altean to his cryotank again, so that he does not suffer needlessly any longer. And then we need to discuss finding you that Quintessence you are sorely in want of.”

* * *

“He’s just been _sitting_ there for a million vargas now. Shouldn’t one of us…check on him?” Axca’s question drew appalled stares.

“Well, _I’m_ not going in,” Ezor hissed, looking askance at the other two generals from where they were clustered at the main deck’s entryway. “Do you not _see_ the claw marks in the poor chair? I like all my appendages _intact_ , thanks very much!” 

“But look at his _face_ ,” Axca said, eyebrows furrowing together as she scrutinized the male in the command chair. 

“What am I looking at - the gross dried blood or the tragically brooding expression?”

Zethrid was the only one of them not ruffled. In fact, she was chuckling. “I’da loved to see which one of the little twerps got the jump on Lotor. Five silver shirrens says it was the loudmouth.” 

“You’d have to be more specific when it comes to _that_ group,” Axca said disdainfully. 

“The brown-haired one that’s usually following the Altean princess around like a pet purbat. You know, the one that Lotor always looks like he’s trying to roast into a shriveled crisp with his eyes.” 

“Ohhhh,” Ezor said thoughtfully. “Nah, I don’t think you’re on target, Zethrid. I know they’re fading now, but remember the gouges on his cheek when he first came in? Definitely nail marks. I don’t think the Earthling male is regularly getting his done at the galactic shopping mall.” 

Zethrid and Axca stared at her in surprise.

Ezor huffed. “Hey! I notice stuff too sometimes, you know!”

Zethrid tapped her chin. “So you’re thinkin’ the Altean Princess? Miss Prim and Proper? She _slapped_ the Blood Emperor of the Galra? Hah!” 

“Why not?” Ezor shrugged. “It explains the marks.” A mischievous smirk lit on her lips, and she snickered. “It being the Princess _also_ explains the woeful look on his face. He totally got rejected!”

A long sigh came from Axca. “Don’t be stupid. Lotor doesn’t pathetically pine over women.”

“Oh, Axca.” Axca twitched as there was a condescending pat to her shoulder. “Of _course_ Lotor doesn’t pathetically pine over women. He pathetically pines over _princesses_ with flouncy dresses and exotic Altean accents.” 

“ _I am_ _quite capable of hearing you.”_ The Emperor’s voice lashed out suddenly, making all three of them jump in the air. “ _Get in here, now.”_

Ezor’s orange tint paled to a washed-out hue. Holy ancestors, they were gonna be in for it given the pissy mood their Emperor had been marinating in since getting back. 

Thankfully, they were rescued just in time by the emergency klaxon bells blaring throughout the ship, signifying an impending offensive movement against them.

Ezor made a mental note to make sure she only _partially_ maimed whoever was attacking them out of fervent gratitude.

* * *

Allura watched as the glass slid upwards, sealing against the cryotank with a hydraulic hiss. The murky green liquid began to flood the enclosure, immersing the male Altean again.

She tried not to feel as though she was abandoning him to captivity once more – it was an irrational thought, given that he wouldn’t survive if he remained outside of it.

Her hand rested against the glass, as though the Altean inside could feel the comforting touch that she offered. Maybe it was silly, but Allura liked to believe that maybe he would be less lonesome, knowing that another of his kind was there to guard over him as he slept. 

“Wow, his vitals are already improving,” Pidge said, sounding impressed as she looking at Torkalo. “What’s in this stuff anyways?”

Torkalo’s chest puffed out with pride. “The tanks are my team’s own design. Much more refined than those technical monstrosities Haggar built to contain them. You know the tubes are for giving them Quintessence, but the suspension is a mix of essential bionutrients and chemobalancers.”

“Smart,” Pidge complimented. “Prophylactics against potential Quintessence toxicity, right? A straight flow of Quintessence would do more harm than good without the body getting its necessary nutrients to actually have the strength to utilize it.” 

“Exactly, little Earthling,” Torkalo remarked. “Have to say, you’re not quite as dumb as you first looked!”

Pidge looked aghast at the thought of anyone even _suspecting_ her intelligence to be less than prodigy-level. Disgruntled, she buried her face in her computer screens.

“On that note, I must ask, what was it you were calling us before?” Allura wondered, turning to face the Galra behind her. “Ker –, no, _kral’nic_ brains?”  
  
Torkalo snickered, slapping her knee with mirth. “It’s not very pleasant, Princess.”  
  
“So I gathered,” Allura said, amused despite herself.  
  
The scientist showed off a toothy grin. “It’s slang for the excrement released by the worms on Daibazaal.”  
  
“Excrement...hey! You were calling us shit heads!” Lance accused from where he was listening in to the conversation.  
  
“Shit brains, actually,” Pidge corrected him without looking up from her screens.

“It’s an apt description for you, Lance.” Keith grinned, walking over.  
  
“Language!” Shiro barked from across the room.  
  
“Sorry, Shiro,” came the sheepish chorus of the three Paladins. 

Grateful to see her friends returning to their normal lighthearted states, Allura was smiling slightly as she touched Torkalo’s arm to garner her attention. “Now that we have some time, I would like to talk about your Quintessence problem, Torkalo. I think I can be of assistance.”

“It would be much appreciated, Princess,” the scientist said. “At this moment, the rest of my team is actually – ”

“Uh…Torkalo?” Hunk called out. “Not to cause any, you know, _panic_ , but are those red lights supposed to be blinking?” He motioned to the monitor in front of him, where a multitude of little dots were beginning to flash into existence, all rapidly converging on the center point of the screen. Which, presumably, was where the lab was located. 

Moving fast despite her bulky build, Torkalo went to peer over Hunk’s shoulder. 

Her eyes widened. 

“Oh _dreelpar,_ ” the scientist swore.

“…and I’m guessing that’s another vocabulary word for the day,” Pidge noted dryly, already readying her bayard with a grim sigh.

An alarm began to sound.

* * *

“Um…so who’s attacking us?” Ezor glanced out the window uselessly, seeing nothing but vast space. 

Axca shook her head rapidly, fingers flying across the keyboard. “It’s not that – Emperor Lotor, it’s a distress beacon from the Quantum Abyss lab!”

If possible, his expression grew even darker than it had been all quintant. “Chart a course there immediately.”

“Do I contact the fleet for reinforcements?”

“Only Kolivan,” Lotor ordered. “This requires…discreet handling.”

“Yes sir,” Axca said. And then continued more hesitantly, “And Emperor…this emergency message from the lab – the head researcher there says she has the Altean Princess and the Voltron team with her.”

If looks could kill, Axca felt like she would be vaporized into little more than a bloody speck of dust in that moment. By the ancient gods, what exactly had the Princess _done_ to Lotor? 

Zethrid smiled viciously, displaying every fang she possessed. “And here I thought this day would be boring.”

* * *

“Torkalo, where’s that backup you called?” Shiro’s voice, usually so calm and contained, rose loudly above the fray. “There’s too many of them!”

“They should be here soon!” the scientist returned distractedly, grunting with the exertion of clubbing a nearby soldier over the head with her gun. “Didn’t exactly have time to politely ask for an ETA, Earthling!” 

“Protect the tanks at all cost!” Allura shouted to the others, ducking her head to avoid the burst of blaster fire from the robotic Galra soldiers. Sparks and shrapnel rained down around her as it collided with one of the many screens in the room – she winced as a stray shard cut across her cheek, spraying blood. “We cannot allow any harm to come to them!” 

“Working on it, Allura!” Pidge screamed back. “Hunk, how’s that particle shield generator patch coming?” 

“Re-routing power through the gearbox so it reaches the cryotanks now! It’s just taking a little while cause this stupid thing’s being so quiznaking _slow._ ” 

“Well, go faster!”

“Oh, I’m sorry Pidge, have _you_ ever tried to push an atomic impulse through a compression gradient?!”

Allura’s whip cut a soldier in half, its electronic parts exploding. Glancing, irritated, at Hunk and Pidge, she begged, “Would you two cease fighting and just – ” 

“Druids! Guys, there’re _Druids_ here!” Lance’s desperate call drew Allura’s eyes to the smoking entryway of the lab, where the first Galra robo-soldiers had poured in. 

She abruptly went cold, as though all of the blood inside her had frozen into sludge. For the first time, she wished she hadn’t sent Coran away to secure the Castle and look after Romelle – it was clear that every pair of hands would now be needed. 

Three, four – no _, six_ of Haggar’s accomplices were in the main lab now, masked faces bearing down upon them sinisterly.

They were going for the tanks. Brushing off Shiro and Lance’s desperate attacks like they were little more than bothersome kree-flies, the Druids glided across the floor with a single-minded intent. 

If there had been any cause to doubt the stories of Haggar being behind all of this, they would have evaporated at this very moment. As it was, Allura’s eyes narrowed into furious slits and she threw herself to intercept the nearest black-cloaked _monster_ heading towards her sleeping people.

She would let herself be blasted into a million pieces before she _ever_ failed Altea and its survivors again. Her fingers dug into her bayard, her body one harsh line of tension.

Finding its path unexpectedly blocked, the Druid slunk menacingly towards her, its movements disconcertingly animal-like – one of the slithery snake creatures that the others had spoken of back on Earth.

“Princess,” its voice greeted her, that odd sibilant hiss distorted by its mask. “Our quarrel today is not with you. Step aside, and your life is not forfeit.”

Allura laughed hollowly. A sweat-slicked lock of hair clung stubbornly to her forehead. “Your quarrel is with my subjects, creature, and therefore with me. My life is tied to theirs, always.” 

“So be it.” 

If Allura hadn’t flung herself backwards in the next second, she would have found herself with the Druid’s hand embedded deep within her chest as it lunged without warning.

To her left, an agonized yell came from Keith, clutching his side as he collapsed. Distracted, Allura looked towards him in alarm. It turned out to be a very stupid move. 

“Allura!” came the warning cries of her fellow Paladins. 

A body slammed into her from the side, tackling her to the ground just as a crackling beam of dark Quintessance was hurled towards her. Allura coughed as the wind was thoroughly knocked out of her, her hair blown about with the rush of the Quintessance that passed scant inches above where she and her mysterious savior lay tangled together.

Or maybe not so mysterious. Allura froze as she recognized the hard planes of the chest she was safely tucked against, the tapered fingers that cradled the back of her head to prevent it from striking the floor. 

Indescribable joy, coupled with a heady sense of relief, flooded through her every nerve.

She knew this man. 

 _He came_.

But she wasn’t granted even a second to bask in the presence of the person she had missed so terribly, as much as she had attempted to deny it. Lotor was already rolling smoothly to his feet, pulling her up beside him.

And he didn’t look at her once throughout the entire process.

“Lot – ah!” Allura squeaked as his gloved hands tightened briefly on her shoulders, drawing her closer to him for one fleeting heartbeat, before she was roughly shoved in the general direction of a nearby Shiro, who reflexively caught her.

The reason soon became quite apparent as the Druid she had been facing barreled towards Lotor, hands shimmering ominously.

In one fluid motion, Lotor snatched his blade up from the ground ( _he must have dropped it when he went to save you_ , Allura’s mind whispered) and spun about to slash at his opponent. 

Stars, she had forgotten what it was to bear witness to him fight. 

It was akin to watching the dance troupes on Altea in the days of old – grace in every thrust and swing, lithe body twisting in an almost indecently sensual way as he parried and flipped through the air, finishing out the performance as his blade fatally cleaved through the flesh and bone of his masked enemy.

“Allura, head in the game!” Shiro admonished, releasing her and running off to help a struggling Lance, now cornered by two of Haggar’s cohorts. She could see Kolivan, stance protective as he stood over a limp Keith, his sword bisecting a Druid’s skull with brutal efficacy.

Face burning – had she really been _ogling_ the Galra Emperor in the middle of a quiznaking _battle?!_ – Allura whirled and unleashed her whip at a Druid attempting to massacre a preoccupied Pidge from behind. It struck with a satisfying _crack_ , wrapping around its neck; she yanked hard, sending the creature sailing across the room. The Druid bodily hit the far wall.

It fell to the floor and didn’t move again.

* * *

“Is – is that all of them?” Lance panted, doubled over as he tried to recover his breath. “Man, I always forget how muck suckier it is when you have to fight without Voltron.”

Gently helping a rubble-dusted Pidge climb to her feet, Allura reprimanded, “It is an important reminder that we must continue faithfully with our training and not grow lax and reliant upon Voltron to do all our fighting, Lance.” 

He rolled his eyes, as he always did whenever he deemed Allura to be too much of a ‘preachy princess’. “Yeah, yeah, I’m just sayin’!”

Ignoring Lance’s mutterings, Allura scanned about for Keith. He had taken a bad hit during the fight after all, she thought worriedly.

She needn’t have been too concerned, as it turned out – Kolivan was already picking up a dizzy Keith off the floor, slinging his protesting form over his shoulder like an errant child. At least he was conscious, Allura noted with relief. And apparently quite peevish about being toted around.  
  
“Kolivan! I’m fine – urgh.”  
  
“Clearly. And if you throw up on my armor, young Blade, I’ll have you doing missions on the most remote desert planets for a month. Princess," Kolivan addressed her. "I’ll take him to our ship’s medbay.”  
  
“Thank you, Kolivan,” she said, eyeing Keith’s still-complaining person with a mixture of exasperation and fondness. “You have my leave to tie him to the sick bed, if needed.”  
  
“Understood.”  
   
“Hey!” Keith yelped indignantly.  
  
She watched as the two retreated from the chamber. Mentally she ticked off her checklist of teammates, as she did after every battle to ensure her own peace of mind about their safety: Keith with Kolivan, Pidge and Lance sniping at each other, Shiro helping with cleanup and yelling at Pidge and Lance to do so as well, Hunk heading off to let Coran know the outcome...  
  
“So you CAN be nice to Galra,” a chirpy voice noted smugly nearby, interrupting Allura's reverie. “Good to know.”  
  
Startled, Allura glanced about to see the bright orange face of one of Lotor’s generals. She couldn’t remember the shorter female’s name at the moment, but it was of little consequence in the face of her words.  
  
“Of course I can,” Allura said evenly, trying to refrain from flushing red at the implied censure. Not that she didn’t understand what was probably prompting the accusation, but it still stung.  
  
“Just an observation,” the general sang, a bright smile on her face. “Though I wouldn’t have thought it after the number you did on the Emp – ”  
  
“Ezor!” Axca appeared beside her, yanking her impatiently aside. She eyed Allura with blatant mistrust, before snapping, “Stop running your mouth and help us collect the last of the fallen Druids. We’re burning the bodies outside.”  
  
“Aww, Axca you’re so bossy,” Ezor whined. Still, she obediently wandered off to help the tall half-Galra general haul away the bodies. Axca was close behind her, one more dark glare aimed at Allura before stalking away.

It took a mighty effort, but Allura was able to tamp down on her irritation. She was grateful, she reminded herself, that they had shown up when they did. Without the intervention of Lotor and his generals, and his foresight in bringing Kolivan…everything might have gone quite differently.

And speaking of…Allura peered around, and found the Emperor in question standing with Torkalo, conversing quietly. Neither seemed any the worse for wear – sometimes she envied that Galra sturdiness, she thought ruefully, examining her own battle-roughened appearance.

Lotor was much the same as the last time she had seen him (“ _Liar! You’re a liar!” she had cried, and oh the look on his face, that look)._ Starlight hair falling down his back, a handsome profile composed of sharp angles and strong planes. A hint of fang flashing when he said something to Torkalo.  

The fading hint of three lines running across his cheek from where she had struck him. 

Shame flickered within the pit of her stomach.   

As though sensing eyes on her, Torkalo lifted her head and caught Allura’s blatant staring. Grinning, the scientist waved her over.

Lotor still wasn’t looking at her.

Dread piling up in her heart, Allura reluctantly trudged over to join them. So much for _Courage and Charge_ , she thought miserably of the old rallying cry of Altea – one she had excitedly embraced during countless childhood games. For her, it should be renamed to _Cower and Cringe_.     

Her fingers were nervously slick against her armor. How was she supposed to face him? What was she supposed to _say_? She thought she would have had more time to prepare herself for this! To write scripts and speeches and plot scenarios!

_Oh Father, help me._

“Princess,” Torkalo said as she drew near, thankfully sparing Allura of any need to speak. “I was just informing the Emperor, but you’ll be glad to know none of the stabilizing systems were damaged. We’ll be doing a double check of all the individual cryotanks though, just to be sure.”

“A-ah, yes.” Allura cleared her throat. “That _is_ welcome news.”

She kept her eyes resolutely on Torkalo as she chattered away, keenly aware of the tall presence of the Galra Emperor beside her. It was rather disturbing how attuned to him she was.

“And your little green Paladin!” Torkalo was saying admiringly. “That makeshift shield generator she managed to rig up in the heat of battle? Genius! Although I am perturbed that she was capable of hacking our system with such ease.”

For the first time, some of Allura’s disquiet melted away, and a sweet smile curled on her lips. Thinking of her friends always tended to have that effect on her. “Yes, that’s our Pidge. I’m sure if you want, she would be perfectly happy to explain everything in further detail.”

“Marvelous.” Torkalo gave a short salute to her Emperor and a nod to Allura, and then was hurrying away in pursuit of Voltron’s technician in the blink of an eye.

Which left Allura realizing what a terribly dumb suggestion she had made, seeing as she was now quite alone with Galra’s Emperor. 

An Emperor she was beginning to be fairly certain hated her guts, as Lance would say (as confusing as it was that you could loathe someone’s intestinal structures, but Allura was quickly accepting these little Earth idioms more and more every day). 

Steeling herself, she began, “Lotor – ”

“You are bleeding, Princess.”

Allura blinked. _What in the – ?_  

Startled, Allura’s fingers rose to skim her face. She felt a shallow wound on her cheek, ironically matching his own, the warmth of fresh blood smearing her fingertips.

Oh yes, the renegade shard that had cut her – the fervor of battle had rendered the pain numb, but now that he mentioned it…it was actually beginning to sting quite a bit. “It’s superficial,” she hedged. “I’ll attend to it later. After I’m sure all of the Alteans are in no immediate danger.”

Allura inhaled deeply to steady herself.

“Torkalo told us,” she continued, voice achingly soft. Her hands pressed against her chest – otherwise, she was afraid they would reach out to him. “The entire story. She told us what you did.”

“I see.” His expression was impassive; carved marble had given Allura more insight into a statue’s feelings than Lotor was allowing her now. His gaze was riveted firmly above her head.

 _Look at me_ , she wanted to childishly insist. _Please, just look at me_. _Look at me how you used to_.

She wanted to stand on her tiptoes ( _curse_ his height), and tug his face towards hers, until he had no choice but to meet her eyes, indigo clashing with cerulean.

But Allura had a feeling that really wouldn’t go over very well. Especially not when he was being so distantly succinct. 

The sour pit in her stomach festered. They had gone from being able to spend hours in one another's company, just  _talking_ , to  _this_. 

“I just…” She paused, swallowing. Lotor’s posture was so ramrod tense, she felt as though one more word was liable to shatter him. “I just wanted to – to offer you my gratitude and – ” 

“Gratitude? I did not do this seeking the _gratitude_ of the Altean royal family, Your Highness,” Lotor interrupted, black amusement lingering in each word.

And finally, _finally_ , his eyes lowered to hers.

She wished they hadn’t. They were like two points of ice in a sea of golden fire.

“I did it because when I found them, I _knew_ that their torment would simply break. your. heart., gentle as it is.” Bitterness twisted at his lips in some horrible imitation of a smile, as though he were jeering at himself. “But how I’ve been remiss in recalling my father’s lessons, Princess – I forgot that anger is always the quickest balm for heartbreak.”

Allura couldn’t speak. Her throat had clamped shut. There was a suspicious wetness stinging her eyes.

She was swept a mocking bow – as courtly as a Prince greeting his Princess, or an Emperor paying devotion to his Empress. “Thank you for helping me to remember.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow, now I remember how much I hate trying to write fight scenes. And that Allura/Lotor conversation at the end was completely unexpected - I wasn't really planning on having them talk to each other yet, but they just kinda stole the last part from me and ran with it. 
> 
> Yes, Lotor's being an arsehole...but give him a break, seeing as he did recently have his heart ground into mush. I don't think Lotor deals with rejection well (haha, understatement), and this whole thing has just been a reminder of how stupid it is to love people when they can turn on you at the drop of a hat. Although, Lotor's not really fooling anyone with this grumpy act, is he? I think if Allura were thinking more coherently, she'd realize he went diving to her rescue as soon as she was about to become Druid-toast XD
> 
> Next chapter: Allura's just about had it with everything, and seeks out Kolivan for some answers on how to deal with moody Galra men whose hearts you miiiiiiight have broken. Lotor is soundly reminded of the idiocy of underestimating certain princesses.


	3. Chapter 3

_“I’m sorry.”_

_Despite the solemn words she spoke, Allura half-smiled as Lotor cocked his head, strands of hair tumbling over his shoulder carelessly._

_It was a rare sight before her: Lotor reclined against the base of the Sincline ships they had been industriously working on infusing with ancient Altean alchemy for the past few days, one leg bent at the knee and the other stretched leisurely before him. She shyly drank the serene picture in._

_If she was being completely honest with herself, she…she rather liked it when she was afforded the rare glimpse of the man behind the iron-willed Emperor, the keen scholar behind the cunning warrior._

_Not that she would ever confess that to the others. Lance bore an apoplectic look on his face as it was whenever Allura excused herself to spend the day laboring with Lotor to make the Sincline ships capable of eventually traveling in a Quintessence field. Something might actually_ rupture _if she admitted that the thought of achieving galactic peace and prosperity probably_ wasn’t _the reason her heart stuttered whenever she encountered the Galra Emperor these days._

_In fact, a lot of that abominable heart stuttering probably had just as much to do with his luminous eyes, long, leanly-muscled figure, and the tantalizing hint of sharp teeth that flashed whenever he laughed._

_Stars help her._

_“I do not recall you wronging me, Princess.” Indigo eyes flared violet with amusement at her prim seriousness. His head tilted back indolently to observe her as she approached, coming to rest against the metal paneling behind him. Allura was strangely reminded of a ravenous animal, tracking its next meal with an avid stare. “Unless you wish to offer your apologies for rudely imprisoning me for several weeks when I came to you in earnest as an ally. In that case, I graciously accept.”_

_Allura accepted the courteous hand he extended to her when she drew near; her own petite one was swallowed in his grip as she lowered herself to sit beside him. She raised her eyebrow, settling into place. “I cannot say that I do. You_ did _attempt to kill us several times before – I was perfectly justified in incarcerating you.”_

 _“Hardly.” Lotor sounded entertained by the idea. “My enemies tend not to remain among the living for long – had I harbored any true malicious intent towards your team, I would likely not have to suffer the ongoing glares of your Red Paladin.”_

_It was a struggle to repress her wince. Clearly she needed to have another talk with Lance about the importance of maintaining a non-homicidal demeanor when dealing with foreign dignitaries…even those whom you were not particularly fond of._

_“Maybe you just didn’t expect how mighty Voltron truly was,” Allura countered, frowning at the echo of violence in his words. “You wouldn’t be the first to underestimate us.”_

_“No, Allura.” One claw-tipped finger slid beneath her chin, angling her head up to meet his intense gaze. Once again, there was that odd spluttering pattern to her heartbeat. “I did not expect_ you.”

 _Heat suffused her face, as though every Altean sun was simultaneously beaming down upon her. Not for the first time, she wondered_ why _the endless parade of etiquette classes and tutors had never once broached upon the subject of dealing with charismatic lilac-skinned, sinfully beautiful Emperors that looked at you like…_

 _…well, like how Lotor was looking at her now._

_Hours learning how to sip tea with her pinky finger sticking out daintily, and not one mention of what to do when your heart was traitorously threatening to thump right out of her body. Utterly useless, the lot of them._

_Mercifully, Lotor took pity on her pink-cheeked self, hand dropping back into his lap. “Now, I suppose we’ve established that you weren’t apologizing for my wrongful imprisonment – ”_

_“You mean demonstrating self-preservation towards the one who chased us all over Thayserix?” Allura challenged._

_His lips twitched. “You bested me in that instance, if I recall.”_

_“I did.” Allura couldn’t resist the certain amount of smugness in those words. Ancient ancestors save her, that tone sounded suspiciously similar to Lance when he was outrageously bragging about one of his missions – most of which seemed to end with an adoring populace showering him with flowers and gifts of thanks, according to him._

_Some of the levity draining away from her, she stared down at her jumpsuit-clad knees. In a habit left over from childhood, her finger drew idle patterns upon the fabric, smoothing the folds back and forth. “But…what I was referring to earlier, when I was trying to apologize…it was about Oriande. I just – I wanted to ensure there was no resentment between us. I would never have gained access to its wonders if not for you, but even after all we endured to get there, you…you couldn’t…”_

_A soft sigh filled the space between them. “As I stated before, Princess – Oriande was for you, not me.”_

_Her anxious tugging at her clothes stopped. Allura peeked over at Lotor. The truth reflected back at her from those expressive eyes of his – a lingering regret that he had been measured and found wanting to merit entrance to Oriande, but a fierce pride that she_ had _._

_Her fingertips grazed the back of his hand, hesitant at first, unsure of whether her touch would be too forward, and then settling more comfortably once she realized he would not draw away._

_“Then perhaps,” she said, “the Quintessence field will be for the both of us.”_

* * *

One thing that Allura had recently discovered was that Madame Kaltenecker was an excellent listener - rarely had she found so obliging a conversational partner that also produced excellent shakes of milk.

Er, milkshakes.  
  
Staring up at the artificially simulated Altean sky, Allura leaned back on her hands. It was the most at peace she had felt for quintants.

“Honestly, are the male ‘cows’ on your Earth world like this as well? Petulant and brooding?” she pondered aloud to her companion, who was complacently chewing on grass.  
  
“Mooooooo.” It was undoubtedly a disgruntled confirmation of her words; a sense of long-suffering sisterhood that transcended species. Cow or Altean - _everyone_ could appreciate the frustrating creatures that were men.  
  
Allura didn’t care _what_ Hunk said – there was clearly intelligence in this creature.  
  
“Yes, exactly!” she exclaimed, smiling brightly at the cow. “You forgive them for things like chasing you around in a spaceship and stealing trans-reality comets, but the moment you make one _tiny_ little mistake –  ”  
  
“Mooo.” Oh dear, that sounded quite reprimanding.  
  
Allura blushed at being caught in the fib. “Very well, it was _slightly_ more than a little mistake in judgment. But he’s behaving as though I trod upon his pet burrell! It’s been more than seven quintants now!”

She slumped upon recalling Lotor’s calculated politeness to her now – meeting her eyes only when she directly addressed him, excusing himself from rooms as soon as was possible. It stung all the more when compared to how he had treated her before all of this: encouraging her to discover more of her Altean roots, becoming a partner in her quest to restore peace to the galaxy…fingers brushing lightly against her cheek in soft wonderment, his touch so sure and steady.

Her own fingertips skimmed across her cheek in remembrance.

She had foolishly thought (or maybe, foolishly _hoped)_ that his coming to the rescue at the lab had indicated a willingness to forgive her, to work alongside her again. To…to…

( _To hold her again)._

And while he had _said_ that he accepted Voltron’s apologies for wrongly placing the blame of Haggar’s evildoings on his shoulders, and was amenable to working with them again in pursuit of the common peace they all longed for…

…Allura heartily agreed with Hunk’s wise evaluation that Lotor still seemed “kinda ticked off”. 

“I _know_ that I hurt him,” Allura said wearily to Madame Kaltenecker. “Even if he stubbornly refuses to directly acknowledge it any further. And I can’t stand that I’m at a complete loss of how to repair this!”

All of her fellow Paladins’ suggestions had been little more than worthless. 

Hunk had advocated for an apology cake, spouting off some oddity about a man’s heart being connected to his stomach (Allura had winced at that imagery, constantly amazed at the strangeness of Earthlings’ body structures).   

Pidge had offered to make a quick memory-wiping device, so that Lotor couldn’t recall the events of the past few quintants. Horrified, Allura had made the younger girl swear to never invent such a thing (“I was only _kidding_ Allura, jeez! But also, let me know.”).

Lance had said to just ignore Lotor and spend all her time with him. She wasn’t really certain of what that would achieve, and told him so (“It’ll drive him wild with jealousy, I swear!”).

Shiro had simply patted her on the shoulder. (“Everything will work itself out, Princess. You’ll see.”) Which was sweet, but ultimately useless to Allura’s need to see immediate results.

And Coran…well, Coran had the annoying habit of gleaning all her emotions from one glance at her face (she supposed it was the hazards of basically being raised by someone). And Allura wasn’t quite prepared for the ensuing explosion if her dear advisor realized exactly _why_ Lotor’s distant demeanor was depressing her, aside from being the potential end to prospective peace and prosperity for the galaxy.   

“I’m very sure _you_ never had to put up with such performances from your cow males, Kaltenecker,” Allura remarked. She tore at the artificial grass that surrounded her, watching as the simulated green blades flew through the air.  
  
“Mooooooo.”  
  
She spluttered, leveling her cow companion with an incredulous look. “Apologize? _Again_? After what happened in the lab when I tried? I think not! Besides, he already graciously accepted Voltron’s apology that Shiro extended on behalf of the group.”  
  
“Moo.”

“You do _not_ understand,” Allura countered, distressed. “He as good as said I broke his heart! His _heart_ , Madame Kaltenecker!” She tugged at her hair, dragging her hand restlessly through the airy curls. “It’s no wonder he hates me – he’s right to hate me! I’m a terrible, horrible person.” 

Kaltenecker leveled Allura an unimpressed look at her dramatics, chewing her cud. 

“Mrrroooooooooo.”

Well, _that_ was a terribly invasive question…and one that Allura had done her very best to avoid answering.  
  
Hugging her knees to her chest, Allura admitted in a barely audible voice, “Well, yes...I suppose I do. Or very nearly was. Especially after everything in the Quintessence field. But you can never repeat that to anyone!” She looked around furtively, as though someone might be lurking in the artificial field to overhear her girlish confession.  
  
“Moooooo.”  
  
“Ah.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “You believe I should try something special, ‘go the extra mile’ as the others say? And it might work to better demonstrate my sincerity?”  
  
“Moo,” Kaltenecker said in what Allura strongly felt was an approving tone. She brightened.  
  
“Oh Madame Kaltenecker.” The cow let out a disturbed grunt as it found itself being embraced by one very emotional Altean Princess. “You truly are the wisest creature in all the galaxy!”

The projection room door slammed open, startling both Allura and a very annoyed cow.

  
“Allura, how many times have I told you to stop harassing our cow with your love life issues!” An exasperated Hunk stood in the doorway, slapping a palm to his forehead. In his hand was a pail.  
  
“But she understands me!”  
  
“I’ve told you, all she understands is that some weirdo alien princess keeps crying into her fur!”

* * *

The strategy room of the Galra flagship was impressively large and lavish – detailed galactic maps lined the vast walls, and a domed ceiling would have dwarfed even the biggest Creeldo Giant if one lumbered into the area. 

However, an Earth football stadium wouldn’t have been enough to contain the uncomfortable atmosphere emanating from the occupants. Lotor and his Generals, along with Torkalo and Kolivan, sat along one side of the table stretching from end to end of the room, while the Paladins (minus a still-recovering Keith), Coran, and Romelle were on the other.

 Hunk had paled and muttered something about the “Thanksgiving dinner from hell” upon entering the room, and it unfortunately looked like it was going to be a very astute observation. 

Allura tugged at the collar of her dress, trying to relieve the heat from being in such a crowded room and wishing she had foregone the formality and just worn her Paladin attire. However, it wasn’t worth the conniption fit from Coran, and so the dress had stayed. 

She didn’t bother looking at Lotor, who was probably still studying a spot somewhere right above her head with an air of indifference, as had become the new normal for them. 

The others weren’t exactly emitting warm feelings of camaraderie either – at the far end, Romelle was glaring viciously at Lotor (she’d had quite a bit of difficulty grasping the whole Lotor-wasn’t-actually-evil-and-it-was-all-Haggar’s-doing concept). Lance was also glaring at Lotor…but then again, that was fairly usual for him. Lotor’s Generals were furtively peeking at Allura, one with amusement, one with quite a bit of hostility, and one with curiosity. Their seeming protectiveness of their Emperor would have been charming had Allura not been afraid they were all plotting her imminent demise for shattering his trust. 

“Right-O!” Ever the diplomat, and a self-described expert at diffusing unpleasant situations, Coran popped up from his seat. “We all know why we’re here – we’re in quite the spot of trouble! After all, we have a facility full of comatose Alteans and an angry witch and her Druids out to get the lot of us.”

“Yeah,” Lance said loudly, twiddling his thumbs as he gazed up at the ceiling. “A facility we would have known about a hell of a lot sooner if our supposed _allies_ had been a bit more forthcoming.”

Allura had wondered how long before someone said something stupid and ignited the whole room that was already posed to explode. She covered her face with a hand, alternating between wanting to stuff one of Hunk’s socks in Lance’s mouth and pitch herself out the nearest window. The window was slowly winning. **  
**

“Of course,” she heard one of Lotor’s Generals (Ezor?) say with a sneer. “Because you all reacted so calmly when you _did_ find out.” **  
**

“And we apologized for that.” And there was Shiro’s voice. “It was all just a misunderstanding.”

“I’m still not so sure about _that_ ,” Romelle’s petulant tone floated into the fray.

“Need more proof of it, Blondie?” The other General, Zethrid, interjected. “Thought your precious Princess explained it to you already. How ‘bout I shove the evidence right up your – ”

“Enough, Zethrid!” Lotor commanded sharply, effectively causing her to swallow the remainder of her words with a grumpy expression. 

Allura sent a hard look at Romelle, for once not allowing any nostalgia at having another Altean around muddle her objectivity. “I have already explained the truth of the matter to you, Romelle. If you can accept it, you are welcome to remain at this meeting. If you cannot…I will no longer tolerate the presence of anyone who is hostile to our allies.” For good measure, she pointedly glanced at Lance as well.

Lance’s ears flared red, and Allura was pleased he at least seemed abashed at his earlier outburst. Romelle gaped wordlessly at Allura, perhaps unused to a reality where the Altean princess did not automatically side with her merely by merit of having a shared home planet. Allura evenly met her disbelieving gawk for a few seconds, watching as Romelle eventually broke the standoff and slumped back in her seat. 

Allura had boundless sympathy for the young Altean’s plight and story of loss – how could she not? – but she could no longer indulge a petulant child’s dogged clinging to a falsehood. **  
**

“Now,” she said, taking advantage of the pause in the bickering. “The most immediate issue is waking our brethren, and protecting them from Haggar. I am, of course, grateful for the increased military presence Emperor Lotor has stationed around the moon facility since the attack. But as for the matter of reviving them…”

“We likely have the solution for that as well,” Lotor’s smooth voice supplied when she trailed off. Allura’s eyes snapped to his; for the first time in days, indigo held her cerulean gaze steadily. He waved a hand in invitation to the scientist that sat to his right. “Torkalo?”

The Galra scientist nodded vigorously. “Yes. I did exactly as you asked with that raw Quintessence field sample you and the Princess collected before, Emperor.” She displayed a toothy grin. “The analysis is _very_ promising. The power of it…it was extraordinary. I’ve never seen such concentration. And the pure form lacked the toxins that develop from our prolonged processing of the lesser Quintessence sources.”

Allura leaned forward in her seat, pressing her hands tight against her breastbone as though to repress the hope that fluttered there. “And? Did you see how the Alteans reacted to it? Do you think it can wake them?”

_My beloved people, with me once again? The spirit of Altea revived?_

“Unfortunately, Princess, the sample we collected was only that,” Lotor answered quietly. “A sample. Not nearly enough to treat them.” It was an unusually gentle response for someone who had been avoiding her for days, as though he were reticent to crush the desperate longing in her question.

She nodded determinedly, the world falling away before the fierce look she leveled him. Their quarrel, the betrayal, everything crumbled into dust in the face of her dying kin. “Then there is only one recourse left to us: we return to the field, and we gather more Quintessence.”   

Lotor leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he surveyed her. Allura wasn’t sure if she was imagining the satisfaction in that cat-like scrutiny of his.  “I would expect nothing less, Your Highness.”

“Good,” she said. “It’s settled. You and I will leave as soon as the Sincline is prepared to make the journey.” 

“Excellent!” Torkalo chimed, rubbing her hands together at the mention of more Quintessence ripe for experimentation.

“Woah, woah, woah!” Hunk flailed, head turning rapidly between the two monarchs. “Uh, we’re not going to, like, vote on this or anything? We have a whole crew of people, why do you two have to go back?”

“Fair point, Hunk,” Shiro agreed, regarding Allura with concern. “I can’t condone sending you back in blindly, especially when you would have to stay for a considerably longer time to get enough Quintessence.”

“Yes, my thoughts exactly!” Coran cried. “Allura, you can’t be allowed to go back to such a dangerous, temperamental place.” 

“Neither should the Emperor!” Ezor said pointedly.

Coran sniffed. “Yes, him too, I suppose.” 

Allura rolled her eyes. 

“And that is precisely why the Princess and I will be the ones to return and harvest the Quintessence,” Lotor replied, unmoved by the overprotective posturing on display. “There is no logic in exposing anyone else to the field, not when we are unsure of any variable effects it might have on non-Alteans.”

“Lotor and I were fine after we got back from it, Coran,” Allura reassured him, giving a reassuring squeeze to her advisor’s arm.

They had been _more_ than fine actually. Allura turned red at how _fine_ she had been, cradled in the safety of his arms as he had bent down to kiss her. She didn’t dare look at Lotor, afraid he would be able to know _exactly_ what she was thinking of. Coran was already eyeing her a bit warily.

“Hunk and I can run diagnostics on the Sincline tonight then, so you guys can head out whenever,” Pidge said, ever the voice of practicality. “I mean, if that’s fine with you,” she quickly backtracked, swiveling towards Lotor.

He nodded his assent, before shifting his attention back to Allura. “Tomorrow then, Princess?”

Allura smiled fiercely, feeling herself one step closer to restoring her home world, her beloved Altea, once again. “Tomorrow.”

* * *

“I don’t think this is a good idea. This whole going-into-the-Quintessance-field-by-yourselves-again plan.”

“How unexpected.” Lotor didn’t bother glancing up from the screen he was perusing.

It was only the two of them on the bridge of the Galra ship, everyone else having scurried off immediately after the meeting’s conclusion. Shiro hadn’t blamed them; the uncomfortable atmosphere that still swirled between the Paladins and Lotor was suffocating, like a thick miasma.

Clearly Lotor had meant the succinct reply as a dismissal, but Shiro was nothing if not persistent. It was the only way he managed to constantly supervise four teenagers without drinking himself into a stupor.

Shiro tamped down on his exasperation at his companion’s reticence, pinching the bridge of his scarred nose. He began again, “It’s just that I – ”

Lotor shut his screens off with a sharp slash of his hand at the second interruption. Finally facing Shiro, his expression was shrewd. “Shall we do away with the pretense, Paladin? If you had any objections to our plans, you certainly could have raised them at the meeting.” He tilted his head. “There are many demands on my time – I would appreciate if you would reach your point with haste.”

Ever since Shiro had hit his growth spurt as a teenager and towered over six feet, there weren’t many people alive who could make him feel like an errant schoolboy. Unfortunately, Lotor was one of them, that purple bastard with his holier-than-thou attitude and posh royal accent.    

“Fine,” he bit out. “It’s about Allura.” Shiro watched the Emperor’s shoulders stiffen, as though steeling himself against the name. It was difficult to refrain from rolling his eyes – for all that Lotor feigned icy indifference towards most things, his feelings towards a certain Altean always felt as though they were being broadcast on a million different frequencies all at once. It had been that way from the moment Shiro had witnessed him first lay eyes on the reawakened Princess of Altea. “I think…you should try to forgive her.”  
  
Lotor’s expression became shuttered. He leaned against a control panel, hands braced behind him. “I have no quarrel with your Princess, Paladin.”

And Shiro was a four-foot midget king of the Arusians. The Galra Emperor’s lie was so pathetically unbelievable it was insulting.

  
“Sure,” Shiro said companionably. “It’s why you and she somehow find a way to never be in the same room at once, right? Why she’s cried more in the past few days than in all the time I’ve known her?”  
  
Something flickered in Lotor’s golden orbs, before it was brutally smothered. “ _You_ are her Paladin – coddling her is _your_ sworn duty, not mine.”  
  
_Coddle Allura?_ Shiro snorted, imaging her look of outrage had she been privy to the conversation. “Look, Lotor – Allura’s young.”  
  
Lotor quirked an eyebrow in wry humor. “And you would describe her as such with all of possibly twenty-six decaphoebs to your age?”  
  
Shiro folded his arms. “I don’t mean it like that!” he returned heatedly. “I’m just – she was asleep in a pod for _thousands_ of years. She was barely nineteen when her father put her in, and it sounds like she had a pretty sheltered life before that. Allura she…she still cries at stories with happy endings, and gives people the silent treatment when she’s mad. She talks to mice and cows when she’s lonely.”  
  
Lotor stared at him. “Mice and – ”

“That’s not the point,” Shiro hurriedly interrupted, deciding not to continue that last line of thought lest Allura find out and strangle him with her bayard. He was already risking having a dainty shoe lodged up his ass as it was.    
  
Shiro ran an agitated hand through his short locks. “All I’m saying is that as impressive as she is at leading, and as much as she’s achieved...Allura’s still got some maturing to do when it comes to forming close relationships with people. As well as learning how to trust them.” Shiro aimed a significant _look_ at Lotor. “You’ve been alive for over _ten thousand years_ , with ten thousand years’ worth of experience. Can’t you cut her a break on this?”

This time when Lotor spoke, it was with more than a tinge of impatience. His narrowed eyes beheld Shiro with displeasure. “I believe I have already extended my forgiveness in this matter. Your single-minded pursuit of this topic is the highest form of redundancy, and I am _finished_ with this conversation, Paladin.” 

Shiro gave a loud snort. 

“She’s not a fool, Lotor, and neither are we. You forgave _us_ as Voltron, as a necessary entity you have to cooperate if you want to see your goals come to fruition. You didn’t forgive _her_ ,” Shiro continued, ignoring the way Lotor’s fingers flexed in the air as though he’d enjoy nothing more than strangling Shiro at that moment. “Because it’s always easier to forgive those who don’t _really_ have the power to hurt you in the first place, rather than forgiving the one person who _does_ have that ability.”

There was no reply. Shiro rubbed the back of his head again. “I just…I just know she’s in pain…and it looks like you’re not doing so great either. It doesn’t have to be that way. You’re _choosing_ to hold her at arms’ length, and you’re bringing this on yourself.”

Another long stretch of silence. Shiro honestly couldn’t tell if Lotor was contemplating what to say or contemplating how fast he could separate Shiro’s head from its happy connection to the rest of his body.

Finally: “…you are gallingly rational, Paladin,” Lotor said begrudgingly, folding his arms with a capitulating sigh.

Shiro gave a faint smile. “Try supervising Keith and Lance for a week. You’ll learn.”

* * *

The sickbay in the Galra ship was, contrary to its name, overflowing with perfectly healthy people.

Pidge and Lance were collapsed together in a nearby armchair, tired snoring rumbling from them both in unison. Entertained, Allura watched as Pidge twitched in her sleep, her elbow smacking Lance in the nose. Clearly keeping vigil over Keith had been an exhausting task for the two young Paladins.

“How is he?” She inquired softly of the one who stood as a silent sentry at the door, hovering over Keith’s slumbering form.

“There will be no permanent damage.” Kolivan’s calm baritone did more to reassure her concerns than staring blankly at Keith’s humming biomonitor did. It was obvious how much the Blades’ leader cared for his protégé – it was similar to how Coran relentlessly mothered Allura. She couldn’t imagine Kolivan would be quite so reserved if Keith were in any true danger. “He did not fully come into contact with the Druid’s Quintessence. Now, he only requires rest.” 

“You would likely have more success in asking a snarrkle fish to grow wings and learn to fly,” Allura said affectionately, reaching out to brush Keith’s unruly hair off his forehead. A laugh escaped her when his stubborn bangs bounced right back into place, defying her attempts at flattening them.   

“Hence why I have enlisted your fellow Paladins in wrestling him back down to the bed when he inevitably awakens and attempts escape.” Kolivan nodded towards the pair of rather ineffectual body guards, just as unconscious as the patient they were supposed to be watching.

“You would have done better with Shiro – Keith hero-worships the ground he walks on.” She gave a sly glance at the Galra. “As he does his esteemed commander.”

Allura didn’t think she was imagining the pleased but embarrassed look on the stoic male’s face. Kolivan coughed and gruffly cleared his throat.

Deciding to have mercy on the fearless leader of the Blade of Marmora, Allura gave one last pat to Keith’s shoulder and straightened up. “Kolivan…I also thought to inquire if I might have a word with you.”

“About the Emperor?” came the unsurprised query.

Allura scowled, her brows knitting together – was she truly that obvious? 

“It would take a blind man to be oblivious to the tension between you and the Emperor, Your Highness.”

Wide-eyed, Allura fearfully wondered if Kolivan could perhaps read minds. After all, who knew what the Blade of Marmora taught its members? They were quite the mysterious organization, even after swearing fealty to Lotor. She shifted uneasily on her feet.

“I cannot read minds, if you’re wondering. Perceptiveness carries one quite a long way by itself.”

“Stop that!” Allura grumbled, her ire peaking when Kolivan quietly chuckled. “It’s hardly amusing.”

“My apologies.” Kolivan inclined his head, although Allura was fairly sure it was to mask his still twitching lips. “You were about to ask me something in regards to our Emperor?”

Pursing her mouth, Allura nearly decided to save her remaining dignity and leave. But that would leave her in the same position she was now. “Yes, I – I wanted to ask if there are any special ways that Galra seek forgiveness from one another.”

“In a race whose most beloved phrase is ‘ _Victory or Death’_ , what do you think, Your Highness?” Though Kolivan’s voice was as level as ever, Allura could just _feel_ the subtle levity in the question. “Galra aren’t often in the habit of expressing regret.”

The beginnings of a blush threatened to conquer her cheeks. Her shoulders slumped. “Yes, I considered that. I just thought, maybe, they had something similar to Alteans…a formal process for making amends.”

 _Was I really expecting to find something so refined amidst Galra culture?_ She fumed to herself, and then immediately chided herself for the unkind thought. After all, it was exactly those kind of ingrained prejudices that had landed her in this situation to begin with.

“And what do Alteans do?” Kolivan asked, humoring her.

Allura tapped her finger against her lips, trying to dredge up very old memories of childhood lectures from Coran. “Well, when two Alteans would be in conflict, serious conflict, they would come before a regional Court of Ethics. And whatever the source of the problem was, the Court would assign a _varra_ , an official compromise, that the Alteans would be obliged to follow to resolve the argument between them.”

“That was all?” Disbelief rang heavy in the question.

She smiled. It was very simple, she supposed. “That was all.”

“And if this compromise were broken by either party?”

Shrugging, she said, “Then it would go back to the Court and the process of devising a suitable compromise would begin anew. We didn’t have corporal punishment on Altea.”

“How idealistic.”

Allura bristled. “Yes, and it _worked_. Alteans cultivated a harmonious society – a _peaceful_ one. We _never_ warred against each other.” 

Kolivan held up his hands in a contrite gesture. “I only meant…coming from such an upbringing, Princess, it is no small wonder you struggle with understanding the Galra ways. And our Emperor.”

“I _am_ trying,” she said, not without some weariness. “Although as recent events have proven…I do still have much to learn. I want to be a good and fair leader to _everyone_ , not only Alteans. But sometimes I just…” she paused, her throat constricting. “I just don’t know how to do so.”

Meeting Kolivan’s golden gaze, she hoped he could read the sincerity in hers. He was quiet, considering her. _Weighing her_.

“ _Korren Tak_ ,” he said finally. “The closest thing we have to a formal apology process is the one between warriors, called _Korren Tak._ ”

“ _Kor – Korren Tak_ ,” she echoed, sounding out the rough Galra words uncertainly. “And…what is it?”

Kolivan flashed a grim smile at her.

And a foreboding chill scurried up Allura’s spine.

* * *

Allura was feeling… _bubbly_.

No, strike that, she was feeling _floaty_.

And floaty was…good. _More_ than good.

Giddy.

Hee. 

She hadn’t felt _this_ wonderful in a million quintants. No, a million, bajillion quintants!

Tittering to herself, she indulged in some more of the magical juice she had found in the Castle of Lion’s kitchen. Parched after her _exceedingly_ draining chat with Kolivan about Galra customs, she had sought replenishment with a drink – and had happened upon this wonderful jug of something that smelled strongly of berries.

Mmm. Berries were _amazing_. _Everyone_ should have the chance to try the mystic berry juice. She would have to remember to bring up the matter at the next Coalition meeting – maybe even make it the representative beverage of their galaxies-spanning federation.

Why, with this floaty, feel-good drink, no one would _ever_ feel unhappy or angry or like they wanted to take over the galaxy and slaughter millions. Everyone would surely be friends! Best friends! Someone should have just forcefed this berry juice to Zarkon _years_ ago and he would have been happy and floaty too!

Everyone was such an _idiot_ for not having conceived this _fabulous_ plan before.

Thoroughly convinced she had just solved the problem of galactic warfare and ensuring peace reigned supreme, Allura rewarded herself with another large gulp. It slid down her throat, leaving a viscous trail of icky slime behind.  

Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she peered pensively into the crimson depths of her glass. Perhaps she could get Lotor to take a few sips? 

Maybe then he’d stop hating her.

And just like that, it was like her happy magical bubble had been punctured. 

That stupid-head. Stupid pretty Emperor with his stupid long eyelashes and smirking mouth and pretty, shiny hair. Stupid hair.

She _hated_ his hair. 

Okay, not really, but it made her feel better to say it. 

“Princess. There you are.”

Allura jumped in her seat, squinting at the tall purple blob that had materialized before her.

“I hate your hair,” she slurred in greeting. She wasn’t exactly one-hundred percent certain that Lotor was actually standing in front of her, or if he was some kind of berry juice-induced hallucination, but she figured opportunity only rang once and she wasn’t about to let this chance go to waste.

“Pardon?” To her glee, the Lotor-shaped blob sounded delightfully nonplussed.

She had a sneaking suspicion that whatever he had expected to find in the kitchen, this wasn’t it. Allura snickered, raising the rim of her cup to take another long draught.

Only to discover it was _empty_.

 _Oh no_. 

“Nooooooo,” she lamented, distraught. 

She grabbed towards the jug with panicky hands, only to let out a displeased squawk when it was snatched out of reach. 

 _Her magic juice!_ She wailed internally.

“ _Magic juice?_ ” The Lotor-blob repeated incredulously. 

Oops. Maybe she had accidentally said that out loud. Why were things that were supposed to be _inside_ her head suddenly _outside_ her head? Had she lost the ability to think?! 

“Doctor Funtimes’ Weirdly Wacky Wine for the Incurably Boring,” Lotor’s voice read out, bemused. “How charming. Your Highness, have you been drinking this all evening?”

“It had a _label_?” She gasped, clapping her hands together. “Lotor, quickly! I must contact this genius ‘Doctor Funtimes’ and ensure a lifetime supply of juice for the entire Coalition!”

“I think not, Princess.”

“Wha – ? Ah!” Another angry shriek escaped as Allura found herself being scooped out of her chair and into a strong set of arms, and carted off far, far away from her berry juice. “The magic juice! Lotor, put me down! _Now_ , I say! Your monarch commands it!” 

A quiet huff of breath left her captor – if she didn’t know better, she would say it was a laugh. But she hadn’t heard him laugh in such a long time, that couldn’t be it.

“You are only the ruler of my Altean side, Princess. I do not remember granting you leave to command the Galra half. And I believe you’ve had enough imbibing for one night.”

They were in the darkened hallways of the Castle now, devoid of sound except Lotor’s rhythmic footsteps as he carried her towards her room. At least, that’s where she _hoped_ they were going. As it was now, she wouldn’t put it past him to dump her in the garbage chute and be done with it.

But Allura had to concede he _did_ have a point. Still though, it was insulting. “How _dare_ you accuse a refined Altean princess of imbib – imdibbing – imbibbiding – imbi – _that_.” Goodness, she had never noticed how difficult words were. Especially speaking them. “And anyways,” she huffed. “It’s all _your_ fault.” 

She tried to regally flip her hair over her shoulder, and ended up smacking herself in the face.

 _Ouch_.   

“And how might that be, Princess?” His calm, indulgent tone was _seriously pissing her off_ , to steal a turn of phrase from Keith. Allura squinted up at him, trying to convey righteous anger. She had the feeling all she was conveying was that she was having a hard time actually focusing on anything.

“Because you are being _quite_ a gigantic, quiznaking puffer-buffalo’s _hind-quarters_ and ignoring me!” she snapped. She paused, taking a moment to bask in how amazing her insult had been. Then the anger returned with a vengeance. 

“And it is _hurting_ _me_ , Lotor! _It hurts!_ ” Against her will, and much to her horror, there were tears beginning to well up at the corner of her eyes. “You won’t _look_ at me, or _touch_ me, you won’t even call me by my _name_! You _kissed_ me once, and it’s as though you forgot it ever happened! I forgave you _your_ sins, but you continue to hold mine about my neck like an ever-tightening noose!” 

Even to her own pointed ears, Allura heard the incessant whining of a petulant child. But it felt _good_ to let it flow out – as much as she loathed to allow the decorum she wielded like a shield to fall away, these feelings were rotting her from the inside. She wanted them _out_.

Cradled as she was against his chest, she felt Lotor go rigid. Their movement ground to a halt. “Allura – ” 

“Oh my, you _do_ remember my name. I am absolutely _honored_ you deigned to use it, Emperor.” She turned her face away so as to avoid his gaze, stubbornly glaring at the wall.

…a wall that, uh, actually resembled the door to her quarters. A lot.

Probably because it _was_ the door to her quarters.

And, thankfully, not the entrance to the garbage chute.

Wordlessly, she reached out and pressed her palm against the bio-identifier panel adjacent to the door. The green light of approval nearly blinded her sensitive eyes; she squeaked and buried her face against a silent, still-frozen Lotor’s arm.

And then promptly remembered that she was mad at him and pulled back.

And then was blinded by the panel’s green light again. 

Allura really couldn’t win tonight, it seemed. Everything, from her friends down to electronic appliances, were just out to get her. 

“Would you _please_ take me to bed already,” she huffed. “That quiznaking light is _insufferable_.”

Lotor, who had taken one step towards her room, stopped. There was an awkward pause. Lotor and Allura blinked at each other. The lilac shade of his face seemed to be flushed darker than usual. 

“That…really did not come out as intended. I _meant_ , can we go to bed already,” Allura explained matter-of-factly.

Another awkward silence.

“Wait, no! I mean it’s high time for us to sleep. Oh, quiznak! Sleep _separately_ of course! In very, very different beds! Far apart! Different ships!” 

She slapped both hands over her poor, abused eyes. Allura hated herself. No, actually, she hated _Doctor Funtimes_ and his stupid intoxicating berry juice and _by the ancient gods above she was going to declare him an enemy of the Coalition as soon as she could actually focus on things coherently again._  

And then there was the most wonderful sound in the entire world.

Laughter. 

Stilted, at first, as though coming from one unused to mirth and afraid to express it. And then it transformed, becoming deep and rolling and pure.    

It was so familiar it made her heart hurt all over again. Made each bone in her body ache with the desire to curl up against Lotor and absorb every joyous vibration from him. But she remembered how much he hated her now, and it paralyzed her into immobility.

The world started shifting in front of Allura’s blurry vision; they were moving into her quarters, the soft greys and muted blues of her room a comforting sight. Allura was so very tired, exhaling happily as Lotor bent over her bed and placed her onto it. She gently slid from the heat of his arms to a cold bedsheet.

She felt…boneless. Her eyes were heavy, lashes fluttering as she struggled to keep them open. However, panic beset her as she saw Lotor begin to rise, begin to leave.

 _Oh no he doesn't_. She was absolutely _through_ being run from by an emotionally-constipated Emperor, no matter how pretty he was.  

It was a Herculean effort, but she lurched back up and managed to slip her arms about his neck. His silvery hair tickled her cheek as he pitched forwards, nearly losing his balance until his large hands braced against her mattress.

Hidden away from his view, she allowed herself a tiny smile. In a perfect world, she imagined drowsily, she would have pulled him down beside her to rest. He would have held her through the night, a solid presence at her back. She always felt so secure when she was against him, like the monsters of the past couldn’t reach her. Allura hadn’t felt like that for so many years, not since she had been ripped from a cryo-sleep to discover the decimation of her entire world.

And now…

Allura choked back a sob, squeezing her arms tight about him. She couldn’t see his face, couldn’t glean anything from whatever expression he bore.

She remembered that her Father had always told her to tell the truth, no matter what, if she wanted to connect with people’s hearts.

And all Allura could think to say in that moment was the truest feeling she had ever experienced.

“ _I miss you_ ,” she whispered sweetly against his ear, lips bumping softly against the outer shell. A harsh shiver ran through him. She didn’t notice Lotor’s hands, balled into white-knuckled fists against the bedspread, as he leaned into her embrace. 

“Allura…” he said hoarsely. “I – ”

Then Allura fell backwards onto her pillow with the loudest, most uncouth snore anyone in the known galaxies had ever had the misfortune to bear witness to.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh goodness, I can't apologize enough for updates dropping away. Long story short I moved, and it's taken an ungodly amount of time to get resettled and into some normal sort of routine. But hopefully I can resume some regular updates - and we can all wipe that last crappy season of Voltron from our brains (I still can't talk about it without ranting, so I won't. Suffice to say they did everyone dirty with that shitshow). 
> 
> Hopefully the fluffiness at the end makes up for some of the wait XD (Ok, it was mostly self-indulgent when I wrote it because dammit I needed some Lotor/Allura goodness). Also sorry about the angst...I am a sucker for mutual pining when both parts of a couple think the other hates them. Also the imagery of Allura using Kaltenecker the Cow as a confidant for all her girlish woes just cracks me up, so sorry-not-sorry for that bit of absurdity. 
> 
> And thank you to everyone for your reviews!! I love hearing what everyone thinks. I really am so flattered by the awesome response this little story has gotten so far, and I'm glad if it can make anyone feel better about that finale. 
> 
> Next chapter: Quintessence Field: The Sequel ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) . In which Allura wakes up with the worst hangover known to man, Galra, or Altean. In which the author finally considers writing a bit of Lotor POV, but isn't sure if it's better that his thoughts remain a mystery (seriously, I need some feedback on this guys cause I'm indecisive).


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